Black Dahlia || Dick Grayson [Titans] ✔️

LOFT

Three Years Ago

The last time I saw Dick with that look in his eyes was just before he and Robin went AWOL. I'd long since stopped living at Wayne Manor and after a mini disappearing act of my own, I'd found my way back to him and his loft apartment. At the time, I hadn't intended on staying very long, just looking to use my GCPD connect to look into something, but as with the rest of my life it just never went as planned. What should've been a few days visit turned into a few months of me living with my favorite kind of drug. Dick would tease me about how easy it had been to get me to stay, but I always saw the uncertainty that lived on his face when he woke up in the morning or came home.

Eventually, the voice in my head whispering for me to leave before I could corrupt him grew silent. Unfortunately, by the time it returned, it was too late.

As a Detective for GCPD, Dick was able to know more about high profile cases and inmates; including Tony Zucco. I don't know why, but when Zucco was first taken into custody, I assumed that fire in Dick would snuff out or at least burn at a more containable rate inside of him. The man responsible for the death of his parents and the upturning of his world was caught and would serve time in Black Gate Penitentiary.

But then, I guess, I never took in account how corrupt Gotham was and how desperate the police were. They cut a deal with Zucco for information on the Maroni family; people the police department thought were more important to get off the streets. A deal that inadvertently belittled the Grayson's deaths and fueled Dick's rage into something I'd never seen.

A person I'd never seen.

He came home slamming the door, shoving his keys into his pocket instead of dropping them on the table. He didn't so much as glance my way as he crossed the living room space to his liquor cabinet in the kitchen. "Thanks, I missed you too," I said sarcastically over my shoulder. The only response I got were the clanging of glasses. With a sigh, I hoisted myself up from the sofa and trailed after him. I leaned on the edge of the counter, arms crossed over my chest as I stared at him.

"What's your damage, Grayson?" I inquired as he downed his glass of whiskey and poured himself another. "When you left for work earlier, you couldn't wait to get there and see Zucco behind bars. Now you're swallowing whiskey like you never want to see straight again. What happened today?"

Dick finished his second glass, silently pouring a third. He looked at the extra drink beside him and nudged it towards me. "You're not going to make me drink alone, are you?" he asked flatly, eyes finally finding their way to me. They were rimmed red in a familiar way that broke something in me. "Please, Madds."

I took the glass with a sigh and taking a gulp that made me wince. There was an odd after taste that flooded the inside of my mouth, but I couldn't place it. My mind was too preoccupied otherwise to dwell on the difference much. "Now tell me what's wrong."

Dick drank half of his glass before staring down at the rest as he spoke. "They're letting him walk. Zucco. He murdered my parents and who knows how many others, but they're letting him walk."